Third Time is the Charm
by Elysium66
Summary: Hermione always assumed that when it came to the more physical side of her relationship with Ron, that things would happen naturally. Unfortunately for her, it would seem they did not. Still, she felt sure they could navigate the problem admirably.


_Another R/Hr I hear you cry? Yes, I know I'm shocking the socks off of all of you but I was struck down with an amusing mental image when I wrote this, quite a disturbing one actually, and that gave birth to this. Let me know what you think :) Please do review, it makes me happy!  
_

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**Third Time is the Charm**

"That was," she coughed rather awkwardly, "wonderful...really..."

"Wonderful..." He agreed and coughed too.

Hermione spared a sideways glance at her boyfriend, the man she _loved_, and cringed involuntarily. He was lying next to her, also on his back, and gazing upward at the ceiling, probably counting the floral cornice detailing. There were 97 petals to be precise. She knew because she had been counting them herself at a rather crucial part of the evening. She ought to have been in mind-altering rapture at that point but the look of pained concentration on Ron's face had been absurdly funny.

It was the eve of their first anniversary together and they had decided the time was right to take their relationship to the next level. Upon reflection she realised that it seemed a smidgeon clinical _deciding_ to make love with one's boyfriend for the first time, rather like jotting in a trip to the dentist in your diary. Only, according to everything she knew about sex, it was _supposed_ to be more enjoyable than the latter.

In any case, she had had it all planned out: a romantic evening full of kisses, proclamations of love and, well, _sex_. She spared another glance at a bewildered looking Ron, and tried valiantly to determine _precisely_ what had gone wrong.

As a couple they had always been quite marvellous together; she was certainly never complacent with him around, that was for sure. In spite of the rockiness of their friendship since youth, namely the constant bickering, they seemed to roll along quite well as a couple. She had always supposed their problem had been mutual attraction and a refusal to admit it which had caused all of their arguments. That was not to say that theirs was an argument free relationship; merely that he conceded her point much more easily now that she could hold something over him.

It was a perfect arrangement.

In fact everything had been going so well that it had become increasingly obvious to her that there was no reason for them to wait any longer. Ron had, as any man would, agreed quite immediately. Of course he was nervous despite the enthusiasm; Ron's suavity was hardly of renown. Hermione had just assumed that with the love and the general eagerness they both had for kissing, that it would all just roll along quite nicely from there. Alas, the art of making love, it seemed, required more finesse than either she or Ron had anticipated or indeed been able to demonstrate.

She glanced back at him and gently patted him on the shoulder. She was going for encouraging but the look of utter resignation on his face seemed to suggest he took it as a 'there, there' sort of gesture. His effort had been valiant no matter the outcome, or lack there of, as it were.

Although she had been initially dismayed by the whole thing, Hermione was a resilient sort of person and drew comfort from the fact that practice _clearly_ made perfect. Never let it be said that Hermione Granger strived for anything less than perfection. She just hoped fervently that next time he would not try that _hip thing_ again. She supposed he must have read about it in _Witch Weekly_ as a fail-safe technique. Hermione rather though it best that he start with the basics before progressing.

Aim_,_ for instance, seemed like an excellent place to start. It had never been _her_ experience, but her Mother did always say that men had a problem with asking for directions. She rolled onto her side to face Ron properly and noted the bemused expression on his face, as though he was recounting something with increased difficulty and discomfort.

"Did you... you know?" He looked so dreadfully uncomfortable with the whole thing that she wanted to cuddle up and kiss him on the cheek.

She hated having to be the bringer of bad news to him but she was _quite_ sure she had not orgasmed and, frankly, if she _had_ then she was fairly certain it was not worth bothering over anyway.

"I don't think so." He looked appropriately downtrodden.

"But we can always try again next time." She whispered the words in his ear and snuggled up beside him, rather exhausted by the whole ordeal.

Surely, she thought, it would be better next time.

*

The next time was possibly even _more_ disastrous than their first attempt. She was, she reflected dismally, not in touch with her inner sex goddess, if indeed she even had one. According to some of the literature she had most fortuitously stumbled across, every witch had one. It would seem that hers was buried a smidgeon deeper than most.

And as for her beloved Ron's inner-Adonis, it would seem that he too had been severely repressed. They were a rum pair.

Despite the disappointment in another failed attempt, Hermione refused to believe that they should give up. Surely other witches and wizards had these problems! Surely they were not the only deprived couple in all of London. She hoped, most fervently, that she was right.

It was the pressure that had done them in, she was sure of it. They were a great fit in so many other ways and although they each had a few flaws that rubbed each other the wrong way, incidentally she was quite positive Ron had more; they always managed to make each other happy. Ron was always doing thoughtful little things for her that made her grateful after a long day. She liked to know that no matter how wretched and irritable she felt, or looked as had lamentably been the case on more than one occasion, he loved her anyway. Besides, he had certainly seen her at her worst.

And above all else, she was not only attracted to his personality, though she occasionally questioned her sanity for it, she found him physically attractive too. That fact actually made the whole issue more confusing because by rights one would think that their _problems_ issued from disinterest.

Where as, she was now _frustratingly_ interested.

It was not because of technical difficulties either, well certainly not obvious ones anyway. All the necessary _things_ were working; they just seemed to have a problem with the process. In fact, it had all started out so well that evening. He had kissed her neck, her breasts and touched her gently. In truth, it was only when they got to the actual _sex_ part of the whole evening that they hit a stumbling block.

"_Oh_," she said in disappointment, "you're not... you don't-"

"I do!!" Ron interrupted vehemently. "It just won't...co-operate."

She glanced down at Ronald Junior and thought she would have even settled for half-mast at that point.

"Is it me, or...?" She let her sentence hang.

He rushed on quickly again. "Of course it's not bloody you, it's me! And it's not... you know... _physical_, or anything. It's just all the pressure."

He seemed as frustrated as she felt, though undoubtedly more edgy about it all given the fact that he clearly thought his masculinity was being questioned. Men and their egos, she thought in exasperation. The whole situation was utterly ridiculous. Here she was with her boyfriend of over a year, the man she had been pining for since she was 13 years old and only now it came out of the woodwork that there was a problem.

She thought boys should disclose these things early on in the piece. Of course, upon reflection, she might have been a touch affronted if Ron had introduced himself by saying, "Hi, I'm Ron Weasley and I have erectile dysfunction." Though in retrospect she rather doubted he would have known what it was well enough to have diagnosed it back then, anyway. He could scarcely tie up his shoelaces without direction.

In any case, she did not want to appear ungrateful or anything and she was well aware that people all over the world suffered more severe problems; she just thought it a bit unfair that _hers_ was the boyfriend with the broken penis and a serious case of denial.

She placed her hand on his and said as reassuringly as possible, "We can see someone about it. I'm sure it's rather comm-"

"It's not a bloody _permanent_ problem, Hermione! One time! _One bloody time _and you hold it against me!" He got a little huffy after that what with his butchered ego. But honestly, what had he expected her to think?

She was beginning to sound like someone from the red-light district, not that she had ever been but she could only assume. She just wanted sex. Just once!

Hermione had no burning desire to supply Molly Weasley with hordes of grandchildren any time soon, but she wanted to know what it felt like. And she wanted to feel it with Ron.

*

Hermione was feeling trapped and highly irritated, a rather dangerous combination for someone as easily irked as her. The reason for her present irritation was the fact that she was stuck at a dinner table surrounded by the very people she wanted to avoid.

Molly Weasley had insisted that everybody celebrate Harry's birthday at the Burrow with a hearty feast and some music. She had been looking forward to the evening only days ago, but with recent events borne in mind, there was nowhere else she would less like to be. She spared a mutinous glance down the table at her boyfriend who was pointedly ignoring her. That annoyed her even more. She would not have minded so much if he had begged for forgiveness. Incidentally, he had not.

The issue central to their disagreement was that Ron, stupid, ignorant and brutish Ron had spoken to Harry about their sex life. An understanding of how he could have done so when he was plainly incapable of talking to her about it completely evaded her. To make matters worse, an utterly mortified Harry had spoken to Ginny who had then relayed the whole thing back to Hermione. When she had found out about the whole thing from his sister she had seen red and literally attacked him in their small apartment later that evening.

She had not spoken to him since.

To be honest she was completely horrified that he would tell something so private to their friend and she worried deeply that this was an issue they would not be able to resolve.

Hermione glanced around the table at the warm and cheerful faces of her secondary family and felt something clench around her heart. Although the food would be delicious, Molly Weasley was most adept in the kitchen; Hermione pushed her plate away having completely lost her appetite.

She had only come because she had promised she would, and it was hardly Harry's fault that Ron was such a git. Feeling thoroughly exhausted, Hermione excused herself and made for the upstairs bathroom. She would splash some water on her face, go back downstairs and grin and bear it like the good friend she was.

She was just in the act of pressing cool hands to her cheeks when she heard a shuffling noise from behind her. It was Ron.

"What?" she bit out quite a touch more aggressively than she felt.

He walked in and closed the door behind his lanky frame. She crossed her arms before her but lamented the confined space for its ability to render her dwarfish in comparison to him. She was going for intimidating, not adorable.

The expression on his face was sheepish, the one she often found endearing. It was not going to work on her that time.

"Hermione, I'm sorry, okay? I know I shouldn't have said anything and I was a right git for doing so... but I didn't know what else to do."

"Why didn't you just talk to me?" Her voice was smaller than she intended. Ron must have decided she was not going to hex him and so came closer and wrapped his arms around her, gathering her into his frame. He apologised into her hair this time.

"I just don't want you to ... change your mind, decide it's not worth it." He shrugged in that way that told her he was feeling insecure and in spite of her previous annoyance, she squeezed him tight.

"I'm not going to leave you just because we're no good in bed," she said frankly. That apparently appeased him because his tone turned playful next.

"You mean you're writing me off as done job, useless and all that?" He made an affronted sort of a noise and she rolled her eyes in response. "I'll do better this time, you watch."

"Ron!" With that he hiked her up against him rather more forthrightly than his less than confident self normally would have. He must have been reading _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches _again. She found, in spite of her laughter and hushed demands for him to stop, that she quite liked this assertive side of him.

"We can_not_ have sex in your parent's house, especially in their bathroom!" Despite her protestation, that thing he was doing with his hands was quite delicious.

"I beg to differ," was his only response. And frankly, Hermione was in no mood to disagree with him if he was that way inclined. With the shower curtain as their witness, she would make sure they got it right this time.

Besides, she had a feeling the third time was the charm.


End file.
